


Once On This Island

by logictron, UndercoverWaterMoon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Begging, Convenient Lube Device, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Naked Cuddling, No Plot/Plotless, OliDAMN, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, bottom!Adam, top!oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 18:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14624643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logictron/pseuds/logictron, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndercoverWaterMoon/pseuds/UndercoverWaterMoon
Summary: Oliver goes back to Lian Yu. While there, he meets Adam Dalton.





	Once On This Island

**Author's Note:**

> As you might expect, #TheFab5 are responsible for this. After hours of conversation about Adam Dalton and Oliver Queen and their hotness (and ARMS) over the past few weeks, OliDAMN was born. So, logically, this story just had to be done. 
> 
> It is set after Arrow 3x02. Adam is on leave just before taking over his first Omega Team.
> 
> Logictron and I had the best time writing this! And the rest of #TheFab5 (Kyrie Anne, iCarryYourHeart, and Chibisere23) were the best cheerleaders and provided a ton of input as well. Thank you ladies!
> 
> Enjoy!!

The sound of leaves crunching under his boots keeps him company as he makes the evening security rounds. It crosses his mind that grabbing some wood for a fire would be a good idea, but he shrugs it off. The cold is better. It’s what he deserves.  

 

Three days have passed since he came back to Lian Yu, the place that taught him to survive. He’s done a good job of that -not dying, scraping by- but he wonders if there’s more this island could teach him. Maybe it’s that silent wish that keeps him coming back to this awful place when life stops making sense. This idea that the Universe may have had a plan when it dumped him here eight years ago, and that it hasn’t yet unfolded entirely. It makes him both hopeful and rabid mad.

 

Visions of Felicity assault him as he remembers watching her, small and still, bleeding on that cold metal table where he’d always thought he’d take his last breath. The house of cards had started to tumble then, and mere hours later Sara’s death had blown it all to hell.

 

A shake of his head scatters the images temporarily, but it’s oddly comforting, knowing the memories will be back. Later tonight. Tomorrow. And the night after that. Isn’t that why he’s here? To pay for his sins? The ones that hurt everyone he’s ever loved?

 

The distant smell of smoke in the air distracts him, and now he’s on high alert. Someone else is here, but it doesn’t surprise him, really. Par for the course. Welcome back to the island Oliver, he thinks.

 

Adam hates the jungle. The desert, he can tolerate. It’s familiar now, even in its hostility--heat and sand and blinding sun--but this, the dense green of the jungle, with too many hiding spots and air too thick to breathe--this is intolerable.

 

 _Just a few days,_ he reminds himself, gathering enough kindling to start a fire. Darkness is never as far off as you think. It’s a wonder the spark catches with how saturated everything is, but there’s a small, steady flame with relatively little fuss, and Adam breathes a sigh of relief at that. He digs through his rations and bites into a granola bar, holding it between his teeth as he rifles through the small stack of papers outlining his “off the books” mission. Cut and dry. Easy. But something about being here unsettles him, still.

 

Behind him, he swears the bushes rustle, and he reaches for his gun, turning carefully and surveying his surroundings. An animal, probably. Who else? He’s on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere. But he can’t shake his need to be careful.

 

Oliver moves slowly, deliberately, and stops when he’s satisfied with his position amongst the thick foliage of the shrub he’s hiding in. The ninja skills he’s acquired over the years serve him well in situations like these. The ebb and flow of the tropical forest feels as familiar to him as the steadiness of his heart beat, enhancing his focus as his mind considers the options.

 

Shifting slightly, he can see through the branches now. A man. Alone. Blond, about 5’11’, thick beard and dressed appropriately for the environment. The fire, gear backpack, and his somewhat casual demeanor- eating a food ration or a candy bar, he can’t tell for sure- tell Oliver he’s not here under duress. In his lap are papers he’s studying, tracing a finger over a spot on the documents. He’s gotta be here looking for something. And likely on someone’s behalf.

 

The choice looms in Oliver’s mind. Does he engage? Or retreat? Knowing the island like the palm of his hand means he can probably avoid this stranger with little to no effort. Judging by the amount of supplies, the man’s not planning on being here more than a couple of days anyway.

 

Or he could follow him, make it a bit of a game. A training exercise. Dismissing that option, he purses his lips, deliberating, until a light breeze rustles some tree leaves around him. The man reaches for his gun, and Oliver immediately knows the choice has been made for him.

 

The last thing he wants is to spend the night playing hide and seek with some armed ex-soldier or mercenary type. God, he is so tired of that. Aside from not being ideal, that scenario is completely avoidable. It’s better to just deal with this now instead of dragging it out. With some luck, he won’t have to kill to survive tonight.  

 

Gun in hand now, Oliver steps out of his hiding spot, and a second later he’s staring into eerily calm, deep blue eyes, belonging to the stranger aiming his weapon at his head.  

 

“Who are you? And what are you looking for?” Oliver says, and waits.

 

It throws him somehow, both that this man has chosen to reveal himself and also that he’s speaking English. Adam regards his intruder, noting the gun trained steadily, calmly, at his chest.

 

“I could ask you the same question,” he says, biding his time, weighing his options. This guy is fit, and trained, and creating an enemy needlessly isn't something Adam wants to do. After a second, he lowers his gun. His finger stays curled over the trigger, but the weapon drops, aiming at the dirt instead. “Adam. I'm...picking something up for a friend. Wasn't supposed to have company. Come here often?”

 

Without the immediate threat of a gun to his head, Oliver relaxes slightly, which for him is not a noticeable difference. Lowering his weapon as well, he regards the stranger, Adam, for a moment. Up close now, other things catch his attention. For one, this guy might be a gun for hire, but he’s not lying. At least not right now.

 

Trusting his instincts under stress is Oliver’s bread and butter. So he doesn’t question himself, and decides to go with the truth. Or a heavily redacted version of it.

 

“I do come here often. You don’t,” Oliver asserts with a pointed look, waving his gun at the papers strewn across the camo green blanket Adam had been sitting on.

 

“A little remote for my taste. I prefer those all-inclusive, 5-star gigs. You, uh, want a glorified piece of cardboard? Packed with protein.” He digs in his pocket and holds out another protein bar, a peace offering. “You never told me your name.” Now that he’s not too worried this guy’s about to blow his brains out, Adam can appreciate certain things. The guy’s attractive, for one. And it’s in exactly the kind of way that usually catches Adam’s attention: tall and muscled and rugged, confidence bordering on cocky. The kind of guy that would've gotten a much younger Adam into a world of trouble.

 

Oliver shakes his head at the outstretched hand without looking at it. Somehow, his eyes are focused on studying Adam’s facial features. The full beard does what it’s intended for, makes him look older than he suspects he is, rugged, and a little dangerous. But his eyes are not cold or hard, as he’d expect from a man with the professional resume Adam likely has.

 

“Oliver.” The sound of his voice startles him. Did he just reveal his name to a total stranger on Lian Yu? More importantly, how long did he just stare at Adam’s face?

 

Adam shrugs after a beat and lets his hand drop, taking the offer of the other man’s name for what it is: a gesture of good faith, though Oliver seems a little surprised by his utterance. Adam can’t resist a small smile at that, ducking his head and stepping back toward his meager fire, which is rapidly diminishing.

 

“Not sure what your business is, don’t especially care, but I, uh, wouldn’t mind the company if you feel like dropping the lone wolf act. Promise not to tell anyone.” There’s something intriguing about Oliver--beyond why he’s on a random island in the middle of nowhere, alone, and not for the first time. Adam studies him carefully, cataloguing, trying to gleen whatever information he can, which isn’t much. The other man is trained, and there’s a sort of heaviness to him that only comes from living through things no one should have to. A kindred spirit. That, Adam can appreciate.

 

Oliver is still processing, trying to put his finger on why Adam feels so captivating to him. It’s been a long time since he’s met another man that...well, Tommy was the last one. The only one. He blinks a few times at the thought, realizing he’s spaced out again and should probably answer instead of think. If Adam is here, to retrieve something valuable enough to come to this god-forsaken island for, it’s likely Oliver knows what it is, or at least who sent Adam here for it. Logic tells him he should stay close, find out any information he can.

 

But it’s more than practicality that spurs his decision to take Adam up on his offer. There are lots of things Oliver Queen is in denial about. The fact that a good looking man, who’s asking for help in a way, has caught his eye? Not going to deny that. Not today anyway. Felicity, and Sara’s death, and Thea, and everything else...it all feels so overwhelming, suffocating. Maybe a little distraction is just what he needs to clear his head.

 

“This island. It’s not what it seems. I guess I could...help. If you want.” Once again, Oliver waves at the documents, with his hand this time. “Mind if I take a look?”

 

“Go to town,” Adam says, sinking down beside the fire to attempt to rekindle it to something at least notable. There’s nothing of particular interest in the notes. He’s read them over a hundred times by now. “You plan on being out here long? I mean, do you just stay out in the open like this, when you’re here?”

 

He still has no idea what the appeal is of a place like this. There are plenty of other ways to find solitude if that’s what you’re looking for. He casts another glance at Oliver, letting his gaze linger while Oliver looks over the vague instructions he’d been given. Adam’s fingers twitch with the ridiculous urge to stroke Oliver’s jaw, to feel the rough pull of his stubble under his fingertips. He tucks the thought away, shaking it from his mind.

 

The moment he lays eyes on the papers, Oliver knows exactly the place Adam’s looking for. Whatever is buried there, however, is anyone’s guess. The instructions only say it’s made of wood, medium size, and approximately 20 pounds. Oliver shrugs as he reads, biting his lip and stealing a glance sideways as he feels Adam shift on his feet by the small fire. He knows he’s being watched, and a quick, rousing chill shoots up his spine at the thought. But he stays calm, collected, stone faced.

 

“I know where this is.” Oliver says, turning toward Adam fully, then takes a step forward to return the papers. “It’s a full day hike. Best to start in the morning.”

 

Looking around, hands on his hips now, Oliver’s face is questioning. “So? What are you waiting for? Pack up. No point staying out here in the open when there’s a perfectly good airplane to sleep in.”

 

“You flew here?” Adam asks, lifting his brow. “Alone?” Admittedly, he’s impressed with himself for not faltering under Oliver’s appraising stare. He abandons his attempt to rescue the fire and does as he’s told instead, gathering up what little he’s unpacked, tucking it all back into his bag with practiced ease. Once he’s done, he shoulders the backpack, double checking that the fire’s suitably extinguished. His new companion is still watching him and Adam wonders, briefly, why he doesn’t find it unsettling. He’s usually the one doing the watching. On a whim, he catches Oliver’s gaze and holds it, barely breathing.

 

Seconds pass, many more than Oliver cares to admit, before he has to briefly avert his eyes. This is not a stare down between two formidable competitors, as it might appear to be on the surface. Oliver can feel the low stir in his gut, a kind of illogical pull he’s rarely experienced before.

 

God, he hasn’t replied yet. Again. He finds himself hoping it all comes across as his usual broody, antisocial self.

 

“Yes. I flew here. Not that plane we’re going to now.” Oliver leaves it at that, shifting in place, releasing some nervous energy he hadn’t realized was building inside him. “You’ll want to roll those down,” Oliver says, pointing at Adam’s sleeves. He knows he likely folded them up as he started the fire, and would have corrected it on his own before moving out, but Oliver finds he needs something practical to focus on. It surprises him a little, that mere minutes around Adam has taken his brain off autopilot.

 

Adam quirks a brow, barely managing to suppress his grin as he does what he’s told. It's obvious Oliver’s a little more affected by his presence than he'd like to be.

 

“Yes, sir,” he mutters, calculating his tone so it's mostly verging on professional. Mostly. “Anything else?”

 

“Not right now.” Oliver says, voice sharper than before. And he immediately regrets it because damn it, it kind of gives him away. Nodding at the ground, he waves a listless hand toward the trees surrounding them. That nervous pent up energy morphs into full on restlessness now.

“Let’s move out.”

 

Amused, Adam gestures at Oliver. “After you.” He sets off after the other man, his attention drifting from the tensions mounting between them to their surroundings. He's still a little wary, being here, but Oliver seems confident and he definitely knows where they're going. That's enough for now.

 

“So, we the only ones out here? I mean, I kinda figured I was the only one here. You proved me wrong on that one.” He doesn't make a habit of mindless chatter on missions, but this mission isn't exactly by the book.

 

Oliver stops, turns around and waits for Adam to come closer. It’s too dark to see now, but he can feel the body heat as Adam gets nearer. Normally, it’s a survival tool he appreciates. Right now? It drives me a bit mad.

 

When Adam stops inches from him, Oliver whispers, “I don’t know if we’re alone, but I’d bet not. So, no talking.”

 

Navigating the brush and terrain always gives him a sense of control, peace, and it’s mostly the same now, but in the back of his mind, the questions start to pile up. Is this a good idea? Taking a stranger to his hideout? Even if Adam is who he says he is, it’s obvious there’s a mutual interest here. What exactly is he going to do with himself all night? Stare at Adam? Nope. Talk? Hell no. There’s only one other choice really, given the direction their interaction has taken. His hands ball at his sides just thinking about it.

 

Adam is only half convinced Oliver’s suggestion of silence is for their safety. Still, he turns off the safety on his gun, keeping it tucked at his waistband but at the ready. As darkness falls, he truly wishes for the open desert sky, for the light of the stars and the moon, unobscured by the dense treetops overhead. The going is slow and he’s grateful when Oliver draws to a stop, the body of an airplane barely visible in the clearing beyond.

 

“Home sweet home?” he whispers, a little breathless from their trek. He’s close enough to smell Oliver, to feel the heat radiating off of him, and he wonders how long it’ll take Oliver to cave.

 

The sound of Adam’s breaths, right behind him, it does something to his self control and Oliver has to stalk away to get his bearings. Walking into the hideout, Oliver moves to turn on a gas lamp, and takes the opportunity to close his eyes as he takes a deep breath. Hoping his face doesn’t betray more than he can handle right now, Oliver turns around, but his eyes look everywhere but at Adam.

 

“So...this friend of yours that sent you here. Do you trust him?” Satisfied his voice is at least steady, Oliver looks in Adam’s direction now, waiting for his response. If he’s about to spend a full day looking for whatever’s in that box, he wants more information. It also gives him a temporary reprieve from his wandering lustful thoughts.

 

It only works for a few seconds, because now with the benefit of more light, he can see so much more on Adam’s face that he missed before.

 

“With my life,” Adam replies, like it's the easiest thing in the world. He's unsurprised and unperturbed by the question. He's more concerned with the way Oliver is looking at him now. “Wouldn't be here if I didn't.” He moves closer, under the guise of re examining the instructions by the light of the lamp. “So you know where we’re headed?” His arm brushes Oliver’s; he's well-versed at this game.

 

“Yeah,” Oliver says, his voice a little strangled, feeling the heat from Adam’s arm against his as if the fabric between them was nonexistent. It’s almost enough to break his resolve.

 

Because he’s stubborn, Oliver still thinks he can make it through tonight without losing his self-control. All he needs is some space, some quiet, and he’ll be just fine. But then he steals a sideways glance at the other man’s face, intending to make a point about the map they’re both pretending to study, and his willpower just evaporates.

 

There’re freckles on Adam’s cheeks, and crinkles around his eyes, and frown lines on his forehead that speak to the life experience his light hearted attitude hides so well.  

 

It’s swift and intense, the wave of arousal, and Oliver can’t help himself. Turning fully, so he’s looking down at Adam, he reaches for the piece of paper between them, and drops it on the floor behind him.

 

“Enough.” Oliver growls, and waits. He won’t touch him unless Adam gives him the green light, so he crosses his arms, almost shaking with anticipation.

 

 _Bingo_ , Adam thinks, wetting his lips deliberately, his breathing going a little ragged under the intensity of Oliver's gaze. “Something bothering you?” he asks, feigning innocence. But he can't hide the way he's drinking Oliver in, hungry and more than a little needy despite the bravado.

 

Oliver raises a hand between them, stopping centimeters before grazing Adam’s cheek, eyes roaming over his face, settling on the general direction of Adam’s mouth. He wants to touch him so badly, feel the thick hair of his beard against the pads of his fingers, rub his thumb over that pouty bottom lip, which is...distracting as fuck.

 

“Can I?” Oliver rasps, hand still hovering in mid-air. When there’s no response, his eyes finally travel up to meet Adam’s.

 

“I don't know,” Adam whispers, smirking. “Can you?” He tips his head, though, bringing his cheek to Oliver’s hovering fingers. “Kinda hope so.” He flexes his fingers, the tips grazing the waistband of Oliver’s pants, and Adam spares a thought for what's under them. A soft growl escapes him at that and he swallows reflexively.

 

Oliver nods, shuffles forward until their lower bodies are touching, and lets out a slow breath at the sensation. Right hand still on Adam’s cheek, Oliver slowly drags his other hand up along Adam’s wrist, his forearm, squeezing lightly, then over his bicep. Finally, his hand settles around Adam’s strong neck, and when he feels the quick pulse against his thumb, Oliver gives him a knowing smile. There’s no stopping now.

 

“I’m going to kiss you.” Oliver whispers, the hand around Adam’s neck tightening. “Now.”

 

For the first time since encountering Oliver, Adam falters. His eyes flutter shut, breath stalling, the combination of Oliver’s touch and his promise sparking heat down Adam’s spine.

 

“Do it,” he rasps, his index finger curling into the belt loop at Oliver’s hip, tugging him impossibly closer. He leans in gamely, all but offering himself to Oliver.

 

Slowly, eyes locked on Adam’s, Oliver leans down, and finally kisses him. There’s no more hesitation on Oliver’s part, it’s way past that time, so the kiss is hot and intense and desperate. Oliver slides his right hand around to join his left one, holding Adam’s head firmly in place as he deepens the kiss.

 

Adam’s learned, kissing men is markedly different from kissing women. But the difference still manages to jar him every damn time. He clutches at Oliver’s shirt with the hand not secured in his belt, angling his head as his lips part to the desperate swipe of Oliver’s tongue. Groaning at the taste of him, Adam shivers, the heat at the base of his spine spreading, slowly pooling, bringing increasing awareness to exactly how tightly pressed his hips are to Oliver’s.

 

Feeling the evidence of Adam’s arousal, the shivers and groans, makes Oliver only more intent on touching and tasting, but Adam’s done a masterful job of getting him worked up since the moment they met, and now that he’s finally got him at his mercy, it’s time for a little payback. Breaking the kiss, he bites down lightly on Adam’s bottom lip, then straightens as he runs his hands down Adam’s chest. Briefly, he considers just ripping the shirt open, but he dismisses the idea as another thought occurs to him.  

 

“Shirt off.” Oliver says, pointing at his chest as leans back against the crate behind him to watch. He’s not entirely sure how long he can keep it up, but he’s damn sure going to try. Adam fully naked, the flickering yellow light against his skin...that’s got to be some sight, he thinks.

 

Embarrassingly, it takes Adam a few seconds to comply. He’s a little too breathless, a little too caught up in missing the heat of Oliver’s mouth. But then he obeys, pulling the shirt over his head, knowing he’s being watched. With a little extra flourish, he tosses the damp cotton aside, the air cool against his skin. He shivers, meeting Oliver’s eyes again. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks, his gaze dropping to Oliver’s fly before refocusing on his face with a knowing smirk.

 

Adam’s eyes on his lower body make Oliver squirm for a second. But then Adam speaks again, a little teasing, a little playful even, and it makes Oliver even more determined to stick to his plan now. He wants him hard and breathless and begging, completely at his mercy, and he will get him there tonight, no matter what. The images his mind conjures are enough incentive to stick this out a little longer. Oliver is a patient man.

 

“The rest. All of it. Off. I want you naked.”

 

Adam thinks, briefly, of disobeying. He wonders what Oliver would do if he balked. But it’s been too long and he doesn’t have it in him to play that kind of game just now. Still, he makes a little show of it--he can’t give in _that_ easily--and slowly unbuckles his belt, popping the button and undoing the fly before pushing his pants off his hips, kicking them off his feet in the general direction of his shirt.

 

He takes a little more time with his boxers and makes sure to be watching when he finally sheds them, wanting to see Oliver’s face. Even from where he’s standing, he can see the other man’s features darken as he drinks him in. It takes a good deal of effort, then, for Adam not to wrap his fist around his cock to stave off the swell of arousal he feels under Oliver’s gaze. He grits his teeth instead, his fingers flexing and releasing at his sides.

 

Oliver can’t help it, his lips part open when Adam’s cock springs free from his boxers. Slightly afraid his knees would tremble if he tried to walk, Oliver takes a second and just stares at Adam’s...everything. He is magnificent really, and Oliver’s eyes want to roam everywhere, but the aimless ogling takes a back seat when his eyes settle on Adam’s cock. It’s exactly like he imagined, long and thick and hard, and just the thought of his mouth around it makes his dick ridiculously harder.

 

Oliver stands now, moving toward Adam, shedding clothes and shoes and socks as he comes closer. Fully naked now, he moves to stand behind Adam, pressing himself against his back with a low deep moan he can’t hold back this time. Arms still at his sides, Oliver leans over, just barely grazing Adam’s ear with his lips.

 

“So god damn hot.” Oliver whispers, sucking on his earlobe for a nanosecond before continuing,“Tell me what you like, Adam.”

 

The sound he makes is anything but dignified, Oliver’s voice is like molten lava, making Adam tremble. He closes his eyes, tipping his head back and swallowing thickly.

 

“Use me,” he whispers, his voice low and thready. “I don’t--Gentle doesn’t work. You won’t break me. I want to feel like I belong to you.” It still takes work, saying the words out loud. The feeling, he’s used to by now. It’s been there most of his life. But voicing it is another story. Still, tonight, the words come, because he’s already achingly hard, and Oliver is--well, honestly, he’s perfect. So he speaks, and then holds his breath, not sure what to expect.

 

Adam’s neck is exposed now, and Oliver sinks his open mouth on it, scraping with his teeth, the tip of his tongue darting out to taste. Oliver’s arms come around Adam’s waist, spread wide as he savors the feel of the rippling muscles of his chest, then lower until he’s so damn close to the base of his cock. Oliver teases Adam for a second there, but then digs his fingertips in, dragging his hands agonizingly slow back up his stomach, rolling his hips against Adam’s back.  

 

Oliver bites down on Adam’s neck one last time, hard, then lets go of him completely. “On your knees. I’m gonna fuck your mouth.”

 

“Jesus,” Adam growls, wavering on his feet for a second before sinking to the ground, the floor sharp and uneven under him. He hardly notices, though, instead focusing on Oliver. He drags his tongue over his lips, his mouth already watering. This time, Adam loses his battle not to touch, and his fingers wrap readily around the base of his already leaking cock. A feral groan rumbles through his chest at the temporary relief.

 

The minute Adam is on his knees, Oliver doesn’t waste any time. Walking around, he brings his cock to Adam’s mouth, the thick head barely touching Adam’s bottom lip, and runs a hand through the silky blond hair before grabbing some in his fist. The urge to move is almost overwhelming, but he closes his eyes briefly against the wave of need. This can’t end quickly, and it’s been a long time for him, so Oliver focuses on calming down as he feels Adam’s warm breath on him. It takes a few seconds, and then he’s ready. Opening his eyes, Oliver looks down at Adam.

 

“Now,” Oliver growls.

 

Holding Oliver’s gaze, Adam opens his mouth a little wider. He flicks his tongue over the slit at the head before curling around the underside of the crown of Oliver’s cock. His lips close over him, and he sucks briefly, then takes Oliver deeper, his jaw stretching at the girth of him. He moans, but it's muffled, his hand still stroking his own length to quell some of the heat building inside him.

 

Oliver’s self-control is impressive and Adam wants to match him, wants this to last. There's a part of him that is all too aware there won't be room for this after his promotion. This part of his life will need to be put to rest. So he's going to savor it.

 

Oliver is in heaven at this point. Adam’s mouth is fucking perfect, wet and hot around him, but Oliver wants more. Holding Adam’s head in place with both hands, he widens his stance and bends at the knees. Biting his lip, he stares down transfixed as he starts slowly pumping in and out of Adam’s mouth. The visual stimulation is almost too much, and his head falls back with a loud, throaty moan.

 

Still, Oliver is a master at controlling his wants and desires— maybe the only thing he truly appreciates out of those five years spent surviving— so he keeps going, watching Adam’s eyes now to make sure he’s enjoying himself just as much.

 

As soon as Oliver moves, Adam releases himself, knowing there’s no way he can keep going if he wants any chance of lasting. He reaches for Oliver instead, smoothing his hands over Oliver's thighs and settling on his hips. The way the other man’s body feels moving under his touch, into his mouth, makes Adam nearly dizzy with need. Feeling a little brazen, Adam counters Oliver’s next thrust, taking him nearly into his throat and swallowing hungrily around him.

 

Oliver mutters a _fuck_ when he feels Adam’s throat muscles, fighting the urge to just push in harder, faster. Instead he closes his eyes briefly, tightens his fists in Adam’s hair, and freezes, willing the arousal to come down a notch. Registering Adam’s hands on his thighs now, Oliver looks down, licking his lips at the sight of the strong fingers digging into his skin, the veins running thick and raised from knuckles to forearm. It makes Oliver want those hands on him, all over, and he locks eyes with Adam as he pulls his cock out of his mouth.

 

“Up.”

 

Adam can’t help the disappointed sound that escapes when Oliver pulls away. Again, he considers disobeying, begging Oliver to fuck his mouth the way he wants to, but instead he climbs shakily to his feet, licking the taste of the other man from his lips as he does so.

 

“Told you you’re not gonna break me. You gonna keep holding out on me?” he goads instead, pushing a little because he likes the challenge, likes to figure out where the boundaries are. Work is all about black and white, rules, limits. This is another world entirely.

 

Adam is barely done speaking when Oliver pulls him in for a rough kiss, one hand behind Adam’s head, the other going straight to his dick, wrapping around the base, sweeping his thumb over the slit at the top. Simultaneously, Oliver bites down hard on Adam’s lip, pulls, then releases to sweep his tongue into his mouth.

 

When he’s done, Oliver smirks. “Get on that crate,” he says, pointing to the large wooden box behind them. It comes up to Adam’s thighs, and Oliver thinks it will do just fine for now. “On all fours.”

 

The grin tugs at his lips before Oliver’s fully pulled back. He’s breathless and his lips are tingling from the sharp edge of Oliver’s teeth. His body arches automatically into Oliver as he steps away. “That’s more like it,” he rasps, moving toward the crates, crawling onto them, the wood biting into his skin worse than the ground had, but he’s grateful; it takes some of the edge off his need. He stretches his arms above his head, knowing it might be a minute before he can move much again, and then leans forward onto his palms, glancing back at Oliver, quirking his brow. “You coming?”

 

Oliver moves toward him, but detours quickly to grab something out of his bag. It’s a native plant, he doesn’t know the name but, similarly to aloe, it contains a thick liquid he quickly learned to use for many things, including lube. When they’d walked back earlier, he’d picked up a few leaves. Just in case.

 

Oliver steps closer, and breaks the thick leaf in half, squeezing it as Adam watches over his shoulder. He doesn’t seem surprised, so Oliver doesn’t explain and walks over to stand behind Adam, placing the leaves nearby. Now he’s ready, and pushes Adam down with a large hand on his back until his ass is just where he wants it.  

 

Oliver spreads his hands on Adam’s butt cheeks now, squeezing hard and spreading him open to feast his eyes. Reaching to the side, Oliver coats two fingers in the plant’s thick liquid, then rubs Adam’s ass hole just once before pushing in, only the tip of his index finger first, then then the rest of it. He adds a second digit shortly after, and reaches underneath with his other hand to squeeze Adam’s balls as he finger fucks him.

 

Having Oliver in his mouth is one thing, but being touched like this--filled like this--reminds Adam of exactly how long it’s been. He has to remind himself to breathe, to relax, to sink into the intensity of it.

 

“Fuck,” he breathes, gritting his teeth as his head drops forward, his shoulders flexing as his fingers grapple for purchase on the crate below him. “Just...God, Oliver.” It’s the first time he’s said the other man’s name since they started all of this, and it makes everything so much more real, somehow. His top half sinks lower as he drops to his forearms instead, giving Oliver more leverage.

 

“Yeah...that’s it.” Oliver leans forward when Adam’s upper body lowers onto the wooden surface. “Relax. Just getting started.” Releasing Adam’s balls, Oliver slaps his ass, hard, and moves his fingers in deeper, in and out, faster. The sounds coming from Adam are driving him wild, and his cock starts to ache, so Oliver withdraws.

 

“Come here.” Oliver motions toward the edge of the crate where his thighs are resting. “On your back. Now I’m really gonna fuck your throat.”

 

At the abrupt absence of anything inside him, Adam whines. It’s soft and not a little pathetic and he feels his cheeks heat as it registers. The faint sting of the slap fades and the loss of any contact at all has Adam scrambling.

 

The crates are no more comfortable like this, but nothing about this encounter is about comfort. Adam anticipates being sore and bruised tomorrow, and the thought is far from a deterrent. He drops his head back, searching out Oliver’s gaze again as his tongue darts over his lips, wetting them in anticipation. He almost begs, but the words catch in his throat. Not quite there yet, not with the steadiness of Oliver’s stare anchoring him.

 

“You’re so good,” Oliver says, staring down at Adam’s upside down face, and slaps his cock against Adam’s cheek a few times before sinking deep into his mouth in one swift move. “Fuck, yes…” Oliver is louder now, but his eyes are on Adam’s body, hot and muscled, his large cock hard and flat against his stomach. Reaching out, he grabs it, squeezes and pumps up and down as he face fucks Adam harder. Adam’s control over his gag reflex is truly impressive, and Oliver takes full advantage of if, basically slamming in and out of Adam’s mouth, going deep, then pulling out when Adam chokes.   

 

When he can’t take it anymore, Oliver pulls out of Adam’s mouth and looks down. Adam’s face is filthy, lips red and swollen, and he’s struggling to catch his breath.

 

“Still wanna belong to me?” Oliver asks, intense and focused, but doesn’t expect a response, so he lifts Adam’s upper body up with one hand, grabs the other half of the leaf on top of the crate, then walks away toward the thin sleeping bag on the floor behind him. “Come.”

 

This place, he’s forgotten too--the one where everything dims except the beat of his heart, the rasp of his breath, and _Oliver_. Adam follows, though how he manages is a mystery. His body is not his own, and right now, he’s perfectly fine with that. Before Oliver can say anything else, Adam sinks to his knees on the sleeping bag, his muscles taut and trembling, hands flexing where they rest on his thighs. His arousal kicks up a few notches as he dares to lift his gaze, studying the contours of Oliver’s cock, his torso, his chest, in the flickering light. “Please.” This time, the plea works itself loose, thready and breathless, but unmistakable.

 

Oliver groans at that, and kneels down, pulling Adam in for a slow thorough kiss as he drags one strong hand down Adam’s chest, twisting a nipple before continuing down to reach his cock. Wrapping his hand around it, he pumps fast a few times, wanting to hear Adam’s moans. Dragging his mouth across Adam’s cheek, Oliver brushes his lips over his ear.

 

“I’m going to fuck your ass so hard.” Oliver pauses, sucking on Adam’s earlobe, then continues. “On your back. Spread your legs for me.” Oliver rasps, and pushes him back.   

 

The loss of contact hits him harder this time, but he obliges Oliver's demand, hissing through his teeth as the movement jars his needy cock. Adam can feel the precum dripping onto his stomach, and it draws his focus back to his arousal, to the promise of being filled. He groans at the thought, hips shifting restlessly. In any other state of mind, he'd be embarrassed by how needy he feels, but here, this is what Adam craves.

 

Oliver’s hungry gaze roams over Adam -God, he wants to taste that cock before it’s over- squeezing enough thick liquid out of the leaf onto his hand, and wastes no time plunging two fingers into Adam’s hole. He finds a rhythm, going in far enough to massage the right spot each time. With his other hand, Oliver grabs Adam’s cock, already wet at the tip, and bends down enough to suck the head into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, squeezing at the base. At the same time, he widens his thick fingers inside Adam, stretching, making sure he’ll be ready.

 

“Fuck,” Adam whimpers, barely recognizing his own voice for how raw it is. His hips lift into the heat of Oliver’s mouth, though they almost immediately retreat again, seeking the delicious pressure of Oliver’s fingers inside him. “Please,” he chokes again. “Please, fuck me.” The muscles in his stomach twitch, his breath stalling with every slight shift.

 

Oliver sucks one last time and Adam’s cock falls back against his stomach, hard as a rock. Pulling his fingers out, Oliver leans forward, his wide shoulders pressing against the back of Adam’s knees in the air, spreading him open even wider. Oliver’s cock is painfully hard now in anticipation, rubbing against Adam’s balls. Adam’s begging voice echoes in his head and Oliver finally stops teasing him, and pushes his dick firmly into his tight hole.  

 

“Eyes open. Look at me when I fuck you.”

 

Adam blinks up at Oliver, dazed. He rolls his hips as much as he can, aching to take Oliver deeper, to be completely filled. And watching the other man doesn't help. The raw, dark need in Oliver’s face, the unyielding grasp of his calloused hands on Adam’s thighs, the way he's still so firmly in control, even now, almost undoes Adam right then.

 

Reaching above his head, Adam grips the edge of the sleeping bag. It offers little leverage, but it's enough to ground him as his breathing turns to barely contained, broken moans.

 

Oliver’s eyes are on Adam’s as he towers over him, thrusting into Adam’s ass, in and out, deeper each time. Watching Adam’s hands move up to grip the sleeping bag, the veins in his arms thick and popping, a feral growl escapes Oliver’s throat. Adam is at his mercy now, almost defenseless, and the surge of power that courses through Oliver is addicting, intoxicating.

 

Feeling so close to the edge now, Oliver focuses and regains some control. He leans back on his knees, but his resolve doesn’t last long, he can’t hold back now. The uncontrollable need takes over and Adam’s words from earlier float in his mind- _you won’t break me_. God, but he wants to, he wants Adam broken and helpless under him, and once that thought finally registers in his mind the barriers keeping him contained  finally crumble.

 

With the loudest f _uck_ yet, Oliver grabs Adam’s legs and pushes them open and forward so far that Adam’s lower back comes off the ground. Oliver leans his weight in with a bruising hold around Adam’s ankles. The change in angle, the sounds, the smells, all of it drives him wild now. Mindless, his rhythm changes, and he’s fucking Adam’s ass so much harder, faster, reveling in the way Adam’s body just gives into the force of it.

 

Feeling Oliver snap, watching him give in, is honestly the hottest thing Adam’s ever experienced. He’s been with a fair number of guys, but none of them have been like this. Pleasure is almost entirely out of his grasp. He’s almost too wrought, hypersensitive and overwhelmed, but Adam only wants more.

 

“Fuck, Oliver, let me come,” he begs, all but growling, his jaw clenched as his head tips back. “Please, I need it…” He could reach between them, could wrap his own fist around his needy cock and make himself come in seconds flat, but it’s not what he wants.

 

Somewhere in his hazy mind Oliver registers Adam’s voice, begging to come, but he’s nowhere near ready for that.

 

“No.” Oliver barks in between moans and gasps as he continues to slam hard and desperate into Adam.

 

Oliver wants to explode inside Adam’s ass so badly, but the dizzying waves of arousal are almost surreal now, so unexpected, this unique experience he doesn’t know if he’ll have again, so he shuts his eyes with a groan, pulls his cock out, and Adam’s ass drops back down to the floor.

 

“Turn around. On your hands and knees.” Oliver commands.

 

Being denied only makes Adam needier. He shifts back onto his knees, far less steady now, his arms shaking as he sinks down onto his elbows, offering himself to Oliver. The emptiness is so much more pronounced now, and he growls, swallowing back another string of pleas, though the needy whine when Oliver’s hands grasp at his hips isn’t much better.

 

He wonders, distantly, absurdly, if he can die of desperation, thinks of all the things he’d do to be able to come right now. The fact that he could still do it himself doesn’t escape him, but the need to be good is stronger. He wants Oliver to be pleased with him. At the thought, he sinks his upper body lower, anticipating.

 

Oliver’s fingers dig into Adam’s hips harder, nails digging into the skin there. With his knees, Oliver spreads Adam’s legs wider, so his lower body drops closer to the ground. Oliver chuckles darkly when Adam moans loudly as the tip of his cock slides against the material of the sleeping bag on the floor.

 

“Don’t,” Oliver warns. “You’re only coming when I say so.”

 

Oliver grips his own cock to stave the desire as his eyes travel up Adam’s body. He’s sprawled on the floor, that perfect ass at his disposal, back muscles taut, arms flexing, shaking with anticipation, his large hands above his head, gripping the fabric, desperately trying not to come…

 

Oliver leans forward, lowering onto his elbows surrounding Adam. Stretching his legs back into plank position, Oliver rams his cock into Adam’s ass and sinks his mouth onto Adam’s shoulder, biting hard with a groan, as he fucks him from behind.

 

Finding words is no longer an option. Wherever his mind goes, it’s closer to animal than human, and the sounds that pour out of him when he has enough breath to make them are a clear indicator of that. His grip on the sleeping bag tightens and Adam pushes back into Oliver with every thrust. It hurts now, but he needs to come. He’d begged Oliver to use him, and he’d meant it, and now he’s paying for it with this delicious agony of Oliver tearing him apart.

 

At the teeth sinking into his shoulder, Adam keens. His head drops, forehead resting against the floor, and all he can hear is his own breathing and Oliver’s, harsh and rasping against his skin.

 

The world is spinning for Oliver, so agonizingly close, he doesn’t think he can reel back in the urge to come this time. Dragging his open mouth from Adam’s shoulder to his neck, Oliver licks and sucks repeatedly, groaning and moaning as he feels that coiling heat grow into a blazing wildfire. It makes him thrust into Adam with a force he never would’ve foreseen using before this moment.

 

Feeling Adam’s body shaking beneath him, literally breaking apart in his hands, it’s the ultimate surge of power, and it amazes him that Adam just takes it all in. All of him. Even this dark, hidden side, his alter ego, the Oliver that’s learned to inflict pain and desperation and...likes it.

 

“Fuck.” And with that, Oliver’s orgasm hits him so intensely that his body gives out, spilling himself impossibly deep into Adam’s ass, and then dropping heavily on top of him as the world goes black.

 

Adam collapses under the weight of Oliver and lays there, pinned and shaking, barely managing to stop himself from grinding into the ground to get relief. His pleasure belongs to Oliver. So instead, he focuses on what this feels like, being held down, being utterly fucked in a way he's never been, dragged to the edge and held there at knifepoint. And loving every second of it. He shivers, panting raggedly, not even making an attempt to recenter himself. It'd be energy wasted just now, and he's sort of addicted to the out of control feeling thrumming through his veins.

 

Oliver’s eyes open, his mind coming back to reality, a slow smile forming on his lips when he feels Adam’s shivers under him.

 

“So good, Adam,” Oliver whispers, gliding his lips over the exposed side of Adam’s face, kissing the freckles on his cheek he’d noticed there what seems like hours earlier. He knows Adam hasn’t come, and that he’s nearly delirious with the need to, but Oliver wants to savor this moment just a little longer.

 

A minute later, he pushes up on his elbows and rolls on his side, facing Adam.  

 

“How do you want to come? Tell me and I’ll decide if I’ll let you.”

 

Adam tries to speak, but his voice is caught in his throat. He swallows, coughs, and tries again, though everything is still hazy and surreal.

 

“Touch me,” he croaks. “Tease me…”

 

He’s been utterly ravaged and part of his brain registers how insane it is, asking for more. But he aches for it, down to his bones. “Your hands, your mouth...I...God, Oliver.” Making sense of his own thoughts is proving next to impossible.

 

Oliver feels the desire in him stir as he watches and hears Adam stumble over his words. He’s still on his stomach, head turned toward Oliver, eyes half closed. The red bite marks on his shoulder catch Oliver’s attention, and he reaches a hand out to stroke the angry skin.

 

A moment later, Oliver sits up and scoots to the side, sitting upright against the wall with his legs open, his cock half hard already.

 

“Sit.” Oliver says, patting the space between his legs. “I’ll make you come.”

 

With a little effort, Adam crawls forward, his body objecting to the movement. He sinks down between Oliver’s legs, resting back against him with a shaky sigh. His cock bobs against his stomach, the blood rushing now that he’s no longer lying flat. Adam grasps tightly at Oliver’s forearms to stop from reaching for it.

 

“Do you see what you do to me? How bad I need you?” he whispers, tipping his head back against Oliver’s shoulder. “You’ve fucked every last inch of me and I’m still begging you for more.”

 

“Quiet,” Oliver says, then slides his large hands under Adam’s legs pulling them apart and resting them over over his own thighs. Oliver lowers his mouth to Adam’s shoulder, then brings Adam’s arms up and back around his neck.

 

“Hold tight. If you let go, I stop.” When he feels Adam’s tight grip around his neck, Oliver bends his knees, so Adam’s legs open wider over Oliver’s, effectively locking him in place, hard cock flat against his stomach. For such a muscular body, Adam is quite flexible, and Oliver looks down at their entwined bodies from his place behind Adam and groans, squirming in place a little.

 

Without warning, Oliver wraps a hand around Adam’s cock and pumps up and down fast a couple of times. Adam’s body jerks, but his hips are stuck between Oliver’s stomach and his bent knees.

 

Oliver chuckles. “You asked for it.”

 

“Christ,” Adam rasps, his head thrashing as he fights to keep still. He can’t help twitching under the overwhelming heat of Oliver’s hand, his muscles jerking as Oliver pumps his cock. Adam’s fingers curl against the back of Oliver’s neck, his only anchor. “Please. I can’t...I need to come. Fuck, let me come, Oliver…” Despite begging for this, now he’s not sure he can take it.

 

Oliver releases Adam’s cock.

 

“No. Be a good boy and wait.” He runs his hands over Adam’s thighs, squeezing the tight muscles, then up along either side of his cock, dragging his fingertips up his stomach. When he reaches his nipples, Oliver pinches them hard and moans into Adam’s ear when he feels him shiver against him.

 

There’s more begging and incoherent ramblings from Adam now, and Oliver knows it’s time. Sliding a hand down, he takes hold of Adam’s dick again, twisting as he moves up and down, spreading the precum around the crown, thumbing the sensitive spot underneath it, then picking up the pace as he jerks him off.

 

“Come, Adam,” Oliver commands.

 

Adam couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried. He bucks into Oliver’s fist, gritting out a low growl as he spills over Oliver’s fingers and his own stomach in hot, thick streaks. Almost as soon as he comes, Oliver’s touch is too much and Adam lets go of Oliver’s neck, grasping his wrist to stop his movements.

 

“Shit, stop,” he breathes, his body too caught in Oliver’s grasp to get away. “Fuck, no more.”

 

Oliver lets go of Adam’s cock, then brings his cum-covered fingers to Adam’s mouth, making him suck them one by one. When he’s done, Oliver lowers his knees and turns Adam’s upper body toward him, then takes his mouth in a blinding kiss. Tongues tangled, the kiss is hot and intense at first, then gradually slows down, until their mouths are barely touching, taking it all in.

 

The tension drains from Adam so abruptly, it almost scares him. But Oliver’s still there, pressed to his back, holding him steady, and it’s enough, so Adam just breathes and comes back into himself, little by little.

 

“Stay?” He’s not really sure where Oliver would go on a deserted island in the middle of the night, but Adam’s learned the hard way that not making his needs clear only leads to disaster. Besides, Adam’s not convinced he could fire a gun right now, and this place--well, he doesn’t trust it.

 

Oliver tightens his arms around Adam, and a different Oliver--the one that is all heart--wakes up inside of him.

 

“Not even a question,” he whispers, a softness in his voice Oliver barely recognizes. “I’m here.”

  



End file.
